


Bittersweet Hereafter

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Game of Thrones AU where Ned does take the Black and him and Catelyn have one last goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bittersweet Hereafter

In their bed chamber, Catelyn sits on the side of the bed, their bed, brushing out her hair. She can hear Ned approaching, the soft scrape of the cane against the stone floor. Despite the fact that his wound has healed, his leg will never be the same. He will walk and ride with pain for the rest of his days. And she will not be there to comfort him. 

She tries not to think of it, that the rise of tomorrow's sun will bring an end to her marriage, to the life she has known for more than half her own. It hurts more than Catelyn can put to words, and she has cried even more. 

She inhales deeply through her nose, stills her face. She will not let him see her cry. She will be strong, for him, for her children, for the shreds of her sanity that she has left, she will be strong. 

When he enters the room she is reminded of that first night, when he'd been pushed into their room, shirt missing and hair falling in his face. She remembers the  nervous feeling in her chest, the anticipation of the act to come, and then he had smiled at her, a soft lopsided smile that had put all her worries at ease. When she looks at him now he is her solemn and serious boy once again, though there is more silver at his temples and in the days growth of beard. 

"Come," she says, pulling back the furs, patting the feather mattress. "Come to bed, my love." 

He sits with a sigh, the wooden cane resting against the bed, his head bowed. She knows he is weary, that his time as the Hand of the King has taken its toll on him, on all of them. It's been almost sixteen years, and finally Catelyn has come to be able to read well the unreadable expressions of Eddard Stark. 

She goes to him, her fingers unlacing his tunic, helping him pull it and his shirt off over his head. He pulls her against him, and she moves with his touch, the bare skin of her arms sliding along his shoulders to twine around his neck. Her hands rest on his upper back and beneath them she can feel the scars from wars past, and she runs the tips of her fingers along their ridges, memorizing them. 

"Gods, Cat," Ned says, and she can feel him shaking slightly, holding her tighter around the waist, fingers gripping her hard, as if she were about to slip or disappear from his grasp. "There is no honor in this." 

Anger burns in her with his words but she quells it, putting her hands on his face, pulling him up to look into her eyes. "And you would be dead, your head on a spike on the castle walls. You are not dead my love, you are here with me, with our children. There is your honor, not for Robert's memory, not to a realm that cowers to the roar of lions, but to me, to your family." 

She steps back, away from the bed, and begins to undress herself, finds she has to work hard to keep her hands from shaking. As she slips off her smallclothes she finds Ned's gaze, and it's there, that soft lopsided smile, watching her. 

"Wait," he says, as she stands in front of him and she frowns. "I just want to remember you like this..." his voice chokes then, and she can see him bite down hard on his bottom lip, a hand reaching out to rest on her hip. She looks down at her own body, watches his hand slide over the soft curve of her stomach, up between her breasts, full and heavy, her nipples a soft rosy brown that tighten and harden under the pads of his fingers. He tugs on them softly between thumb and forefinger, grey eyes watching her reaction knowingly. 

He pulls her flush against him, her breasts against his chest, her face tucked into the crook of his neck, his hand sliding down over the small of her back and under her bottom to pick her up and pull her onto his lap.

"Your leg..." she says, moving to get up, but he shakes his head and holds her there, kneeling over him, her thighs open and flush against his own. He pulls her down, letting her feel his arousal through his breeches, and she moves her hips, grinding down against him. 

"You feel so good in my arms, Cat," he says, his mouth on her throat, on her jaw, the scratch of his stubble makes her skin to sensitive and she moan softly into him when he finally puts his mouth on hers. His mouth is hot, and tastes like him, and she realizes how much she missed it, his taste, the feel of lips on hers, the way his tongue is thick in her mouth. There is such a familiarity to it that Catelyn is overwhelmed by it, and she rolls her hips hard against him, showing it's not enough, she needs more, she needs him, now.

His hand reaches down between her thighs, two thick fingers sliding up and down her cunt as he spreads her wetness over her, touching everywhere but the tight bundle of nerves aching for his touch. 

"Ned...please..." Her plea is high in her throat, her mouth against his own and he hums softly, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. 

His thumb and forefinger squeeze over her nub, and Catelyn moans, louder this time, pushing her hips into him, against him, and only then does Ned acquiesce, sliding his fingers inside her, his thumb still on her clit. Catelyn has one hand at the back of his neck, and the other clings to his upper arm as she rides his fingers. They twist and curl inside of her and she is close to her peak, and can feel it, that cold heat building, growing stronger. She remembers the first time, it had been after the war, she'd already birthed one babe, he had brought home another, and they were still practically strangers. It hadn't been gentle, or tender, but he had made her feel alive, wanted, and under his mouth and hands she had found a release she hadn't known existed. 

He flips her onto her back now, leaving her panting and aching for release as he stands beside the bed and steps out of his breeches. His cock is stiff with arousal, thick and hard, and when he climbs over her and between her legs, she feels the hot burn of his flesh against her belly, against the inside of her thigh, and then, right where she wants. 

Ned kisses her again, over and over, soft tender kisses, and Catelyn almost wants to tell him to stop, because suddenly it's too much, the thought of never having his mouth on hers, of never feeling his hands, rough and calloused as they are, on her skin, and the desperate ache she feels at the thought of him never being inside her. When he thrusts into her she cries out, curls her limbs around him, and never wants to let go. 

They lay like that for what feels like hours, joined together, her hands in his hair, on his face, mouths open against each other, breathing each other's breath. It is the most blissful and saddest moment in Catelyn's life. 

"Give me another child," she says softly, as they begin to move together, the simple quiet rhythm they both know so well. "Let me carry part of you inside me again, one last time." They don't speak after that, but their actions speak for them, touching, kissing, and the slow, steady build as he slides within her. 

Catelyn finds her release first, her body moving and rolling as she climaxes around him, clenching him tightly within her body, and it brings Ned to meet her. His mouth still against the pale skin of her shoulder as he shudders and she can feel him, filling her with his seed. 

"You will always be mine," Catelyn says, as the lay in each others embrace, his head against her chest. "They could send you to the deepest of the seven hells and still you will always be mine, Ned Stark." 

He takes her twice more than night, and in the morning when Catelyn wakes, pleasantly sore yet heartbroken that the day is finally here, she smooths a hand over her stomach, certain that in the horrid nightmare of all this, there will be something to look forward to once again.


End file.
